As The Fire Raged On
by FireFly07
Summary: Tuor and Idril flee a burning Gondolin--but for every escape there is a treacherous sidetrack. Rated for people thrown off rocks.


A/N: I have a very bad idea of how the battle started. Plus, I told you: I can't write decent-length stories to save my life! (And decent-length paragraphs too.) Ecthelion extra-tiny cameo! Thanks to chisscientist for telling me to put my title up in bold and for telling me to expand my paragraphs a bit :)

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**As the Fire Raged On**

The guards had just given the cry, and tension was building amongst the Gondolindrim as they stood in the main square of their city. The King, Turgon, stood silently on one of the higher walls, looking out across the valley, one hand on his sword and the other shielding his eyes. There was a fire in the dark gray depths, as he turned and quietly commanded his units to prepare.

Tuor lowered his eyes, and spoke softly to Idril. "The time has come, my lady. Is our pass arranged?"

"As arranged as it could ever be," she murmured, looking down on their son Eärendil. "It waits for us; we do not wait for it. All we can hope for now is that we are not discovered."

"In the turmoil, it is hardly possible," Tuor said. But being the guarded man that he was, he knew that it was still very possible for them to be noticed.

Idril saw her husband's expression and pressed her cheek close to his, whispering in his ear. "But do not worry. We will handle it when it happens, and we have many good soldiers with us." A sparkle lit up her beautiful eyes.

Tuor glanced up at Turgon. The King was speaking to one of the Lords. Then they nodded and the Lord walked away. Turgon looked down on his army, but he said nothing; his men needed no more morale-raising; their eyes and their spirits were kindled for the city they had done so much work to defend and keep a secret.

Perhaps he knew their doom was because of him; for he had not taken heed of the counsel of the Lord Ulmo, and was then drenched in the deadly pride of his kindred. And now, gazing solemnly at his men, his eyes were filled with grief, and there was a powerful aura of guilt about him.

The soldiers were already stationed, silent and watchful. Then three words broke the silence; and although it was but spoken it rang through the no longer Hidden City:

"They are come."

But for all their watchfulness the Gondolindrim were taken off-guard by the sudden outburst of demons of Morgoth; and the outer force contained the evil for just barely two minutes. The Balrogs ravaged them, and they realized again what they had known for a long time: Morgoth had unleashed all his hatred upon Gondolin, the last standing Noldorin realm in Beleriand.

Tuor and Idril were making for the escape route as the host of Morgoth broke the barriers, and chaos descended in less than a heartbeat. And in that chaos Tuor lost sight of his wife and child.

He spun around, drawing his sword. He saw a rather familiar figure dart around him, trying to flee from the heroic Man, but Tuor knew.

"Maeglin!" he cursed under his breath. The Elf increased his speed, now running, Tuor pursuing him amidst the raging war. Maeglin took some stairs that led to the Walls, and Tuor followed. But on both directions of where the wall stretched, there was a furious battle, and there were no allowances for filthy, escaping Elves. Maeglin turned back, to see Tuor jump on him, but Elf as he was, he slipped under the Man's outstretched arms, and ran back down the stairs, still dragging Idril and Eärendil. Idril cried out, trying to push Maeglin away, but to no avail. But now, Tuor was closer, and although the Elf was swift, Tuor's sense of emergency made him swifter. He took control of their chase.

He was able to lead Maeglin up some stairs again, but this was not just any wall. It was the wall where the Caragdûr jutted out from; and Maeglin was aware of this once he had scaled it. The fear showed in his dark eyes, but he still drew his sword to fight to the death. Idril pulled away, but he seized her arm.

"Haven't you done enough damage, Maeglin?" Tuor spat fiercely. The Elf made no answer, only a snarl.

Then Idril kicked his shin, and he cursed, accidentally loosening his grip. Tuor leapt, and he grabbed the Elf by the neck, and the latter released Idril to defend himself from Tuor's rage. They rolled about on the narrow wall, and Tuor fixed Maeglin's sword on its master's neck, for he had been able to wrench it from the Elf in their fight.

"Your blood will not be on any sword," Tuor told him, and dropped Maeglin's weapon. Maeglin looked hopeful for a fraction of a second, right before he realized the meaning of Tuor's words.

The Man spoke again. "Let your father's words be rendered true." And with that he threw Maeglin off the edge of the rock they came to, and the Elf's cry was heard by naught save the tiniest creatures that might have thrived on the smoky feature.

Tuor breathed in deeply, closing his eyes and feeling satisfied, but the air that entered his lungs was filled with acrid smoke. He opened his eyes, took a second to embrace Idril and kiss his son, and they made off for the tunnel. As they did so, one of the Towers fell with a loud crash, making soldiers everywhere stumble. But a heartbeat or so later, the fighting continued, and it was as if nothing had happened.

They went on. Tuor had never noticed they had gone so far away from their escape tunnel, and for the first time he wondered if they would even make it there. On the way, they crossed a heavily damaged hall. A Balrog was fighting someone to the death. The Elf's dark hair waved about as he moved, and Tuor felt rather guilty for leaving the poor warrior alone there, but there was no time for guilt if he wanted to save the rest of the people.

An Elf crashed into them. "Tuor!" he panted, looking very weary. "The King fell. His tower—you heard it."

"We can't do anything about that now," Tuor pointed out to him. Honestly, if it had not been a very foolish deed and a betrayal to Idril, he would have leapt straight into battle. "Arnengil, you are coming with us, and helping us save the remnant of the Gondolindrim."

The Elf named Arnengil still looked guilty and scared, but nodded. "I'll see about some others," he told Tuor. "I know where you're going, anyway. You told me once."

Tuor nodded once, they parted, and continued. They gathered what they could of the rest of the Gondolindrim, and fled. Idril looked back in anguish one last time, then turned to lead her people in. So they escaped the fall of Gondolin, as the fire raged on in its once-fair roads, and smoke curled into the dark sky.

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A/N: Arnengil, if I'm right, means Royal Water Star…?


End file.
